An Enchanted Rose
by BrokenRosesBlack
Summary: The sorting hat has its reasons. So when an unusual girl takes her turn beneath it, it had a reason for putting her in Slytherin, right? OC/Draco, some Ginny/Harry. Rated M for later chapters. ON BREAK
1. Diagon Alley

The sun had been shining when they took off that day. The skies were clear and there had been hardly any turbulence. About an hour into the flight that all changed. The clouds built up out of nowhere and the captain was caught unaware. One sudden downdraft was all it took for the plane to go spinning out of control.

She wasn't worried though. Mama was there. Mama held her close as Daddy held them both in their seats. She stroked Ari's cotton ears without a care. The plane lurched and began to plummet towards the ground, but she wasn't afraid. Nothing could go wrong. She smiled peacefully up at her parents, moments before fire erupted all around her….

Something was dripping on her face. It trickled down between her eyes and coated her face in wetness. She reached up with one hand to wipe it away, drawing Ari up with it. His fur let out a puff of black ash. The blood stained his dirty fur ruby red. Unfazed, the small child clambered out of the rubble and wandered away, leaving the charred remains of the plane behind.

Many summers later the same small child opened her eyes from a nightmare full of fire. Clean sunlight filtered in through the window above her bed, casting a stuffed rabbit on a chair in an opposite corner into shadow. She stretched, shaking off the mental chills of the night before.

A new excitement took over as hazel eyes spotted a yellowing envelope atop a nearby dresser, reminding her why she'd traveled all the way to London, alone. She'd risked the return of those terrible dreams for just one taste of the world contained in that letter. Reaching out a slender-fingered hand, she felt the rough edge of the parchment sheets and sighed. All those years of just being _different_ finally lead up to that day when she was handed an envelope with green ink that could at last explain why.

Rolling out of bed, she dressed and quickly brushed her teeth and hair. Pulling her long auburn curls into a high ponytail, she let her thoughts drift out of the small room in the inn. She'd be getting on the train today; there was already a heavy trunk waiting near the door. There was just one last thing to purchase before she could move on with her life. Maybe, just maybe, she'd be free at this new school where she was to spend the next seven years. Hopefully.

"Out so early, miss?" Tom, the elderly landlord called from behind the bar. He'd become quite attached to the small girl with the rabbit and cute curls since she had arrived alone a week ago. She'd appeared out of the night with nothing but a small sack of clothes, her plush companion, and a small coin purse.

"Yes sir!" she replied with enthusiasm, nearly vaulting down the stairs. "Using the last of my school fund to buy my wand today, sir!"

The old man chuckled, leading her out to the small back yard. Taking his own wand from a pocket in his apron, he tapped the brick wall above the rubbish bins and stepped back to let her through to the bustling street. "I'll have your belongings all ready for the trip when you return, shall I?"

With a word of thanks the girl ran out into the crowds. Witches and wizards in everyday robes went about their business anywhere she looked. In front of a dingy alley, a dirty man with cruel black eyes offered his wares from a small table. She darted to the other side of the road to avoid him and nearly crashed into a man in a crisp black suit. "Watch where you're going!" his son snapped. She made a face and kept on toward her destination.

She only slowed when an old sign came into view, displaying "Olivanders: Makers of Fine Wands Since 382 B.C." She'd passed the shop on one of her earlier trips down Diagon Alley, and had decided that it was worth spending the last bit of her school money to purchase a new wand rather than a used one. She'd even been willing to don filthy old robes to afford this one luxury.

The bell over the door tinkled as the child pushed her way inside. At the counter, a very old man was handing another girl a wand of golden brown. "Here you are then. Thirteen inches, dragon heartstring core, and made from a pliable hazel sapling," he explained. The girl grasped it with shaking hands. Whatever she feared, however, was forgotten when golden ribbon shot from the end to twine itself around her hand.

"Oh, Ginny, that's wonderful!" The young girl at the door jumped, suddenly noticing a plump woman sitting in the far corner. Both mother and daughter had flaming red hair, which made hers look decidedly drab in comparison. The woman emptied her coin purse into her hand and counted out the desired amount. She sighed, seeing the measly three copper Knuts that remained.

"Oh, hello," Ginny said as her mother paid the old man. The girl at the door smiled shyly. "Come to get your wand?" She nodded. "Good luck! I'm Ginny Weasley, by the way."

"I'm Hikari." Hikari's voice was barely more than an awed whisper compared to the other girl's complete excitement.

Ginny smiled. "I'll see you at Hogwarts then!" With a gentle wave, she and her mother disappeared into the crowed outside.


	2. Olivander's

"Well don't just stand there in the door, child! Come in, come in!" Hikari stepped up to the counter, where old Mr. Olivander beckoned. "It's always an adventure when you come to get your first wand."

The girl nodded, looking up at the old shopkeeper rather timidly. A whirring noise caused her to look down. Near her ankles, a strange device was measuring the circumference of her legs, then the length of her left big toe, visible through her worn sandals. Its little darting movement hypnotized her, and she followed it with interest as it moved steadily up her body. After a trip across her forehead and down the bridge of her nose, it paused. "Your wand arm, my dear. Hold it out!" Olivanders voice called from deep within the maze of dusty shelves. The girl whipped her head back and forth, trying to locate the shopkeeper, even as she held out her left hand. The measurer found the length from her shoulder to her elbow, the thickness of that joint, and her middle finger.

Olivander stepped back into the light with a collection of thin wand boxes as the whirring device landed on the counter. "Right then, lets begin." The first wand he held out was small and molded of a light colored wood. "Nine and a half inches, unicorn hair, pine," the shopkeeper explained.

Hikari reached out with shaking fingers … and the wand slipped to the floor and rolled away into the back of the shop. The girl sighed. She'd scared it away. Typical.

For the next ten minutes, objects exploded and wands backfired and things generally went badly. Hikari was nearly in tears when Olivander brought the last box forth, and offered her the device inside with singed fingers. "Careful now," the old man cautioned. "Hazel, unicorn hair, thirteen inches and slightly springy. You should like this one."

Egged on by the old man's insistence, the small child reached out. The wand practically flew into her hand then sat there quietly for a moment. Hikari's eyes widened when soft twinkling music began to resonate from the warm wood. Olivander snatched it quickly from her hand, in that annoying way that old men have of not appreciating a special moment, and settled it within its tissue paper wrappings once more.

"This one's special," the shopkeeper murmured, more to himself than anything else. "Hazel wood will devote itself to only its true partner, and the unicorn hair will bind it to you forever. She will never waver." He handed her the box, taking three galleons, the last of her gold coins, in return. "Take care of her."

Electricity flooded Hikari's veins and she smiled widely at the gray haired man. The shop's bell rang again as she swung open the door and was swept away by the tide of shoppers beyond the dusty window glass.

Pacing slowly toward his workshop, Mr. Olivander's thoughts strayed from the shelves of magical implements to a time that was, as evidenced by the girl in his shop, a few good years gone now.

_He'd been lost for quite a while; he had to admit it to himself now. The grove of elms he'd been searching for was not hard to miss, and yet he'd been wandering for about an hour more than was necessary. At least the woods were peaceful today. With luck, he may even come across a unicorn hair or two caught among the brambles on the forest floor. One could never have too many of those. Lost in thought, he barely heard her approach. But he hadn't been too distracted to notice that the clearing around him had grown brighter than the dim sunlight should allow. Turning, he found himself gazing at a creature so pure he had to wipe his spectacles clean and take another look to assure himself of her reality._

_The mare approached him slowly, and so awed by her appearance was he that he never considered the danger of getting this close to so powerful a creature. She stopped just beyond an arms length away, bending her long neck to nudge something settled on her back with her beautiful horn. A child stirred and sat up, rubbing at sleep-filled eyes with a small fist. Her clothes were soot covered and torn, charred around the edges as if she'd just walked through Hell. Held carefully to her chest was an ash-stained toy._

_The mare settled gracefully in the long grass so the girl could slide off her shoulders. As she did so, she pulled free a single hair from her companion's mane. After hugging the creature, which nuzzled her back lovingly, the child tottered over to where he stood and stared up at him with wide hazel eyes. She reached out for him, and caught in the beauty of the moment, he picked her up and held her close. Her tiny hand held out the hair for him, which he pocketed carefully, smiling at her._

_When he looked up to find the unicorn, she was gone._

Olivander had taken the child to a muggle orphanage in a small village near Ipswich, but he hadn't forgotten her. As soon as he returned to Diagon Alley from his days gathering materials, he brought that one hair out from his pocket and crafted one of the best wands he'd ever made. He'd chosen hazel wood because it was the same as her eyes. That wand had it's own shelf in the back of his shop, and he'd only offered it to a customer once or twice, but only to girls with hazel eyes.

"Take care of her." The words echoed in his tired mind. Thinking of the mare, he couldn't be sure if he'd been instructing the child, or the wand.


End file.
